The fallen snow covers Ruby’s favorite spots, so she has to make a big production and reacquaint herself with the landscape. I wait, teeth chattering.
Ruby lifts her head, ears pointed, her body at attention. She pauses, listening, then takes off running at full speed.
I call her name, but it’s useless. “Dammit,” I mutter, hurrying down the stairs. The snow is soft, my tennis shoes falling through as if it’s made of marshmallow. I follow Ruby around the house, then freeze in place.
Gabriel lifts a grocery bag in the air, keeping it away from a bounding Ruby. He hasn’t seen me yet, so I take the time to drink him in. He’s laughing, and wearing a beanie and boots, and dammit if he doesn’t look so at home in this setting. Mountain man looks good on him. Sexy, in fact.
He looks up, and his gaze finds mine. I wave. So does he.
“What are you doing outside?” he calls, frowning slightly as he closes his car door with his foot and walks closer. “You’re not wearing a coat.”
Seeing Gabriel made me forget I’m cold, but now I’ve remembered and my toes are curling in my shoes, my shaking arms crossed over my chest.
Gabriel meets me in front of the house. Snowflakes land on his shoulders and hat. And in his eyelashes. One on his lower lip. My stomach twirls, butterflying. My heart trips, flips, explodes.
“Come inside,” I manage, leading the way to the front door.
Gabriel follows, and Ruby, the traitor, traipses along beside him. I watch as Gabriel toes off his boots and makes his way to the kitchen. “I was at the grocery store last night and picked up some stuff for you.”
I pause, taken aback. “What? Really?”
He shrugs, like it’s not a really sweet thing to do. “You might not like these things anymore. It’s ok if you don’t, I just thought…” he trails off.
I walk to the bag he’s set on the counter and unload the items.
Pre-sliced apples.
String cheese.
Smoked almonds.
Chips and salsa.
Gabriel watches me. “Do you still eat any of that?”
“All of it.” It’s hard to explain what I feel in this moment.
Known.
That’s the best word I can think of, and even that falls short.
Seen.
Loved.
That last one takes my breath away. To cover it up, I busy myself putting the cheese and apples in the fridge, and everything else in the pantry.
I turn back to look at Gabriel. “Thank y—” The gratitude dies on my lips. Gabriel stands in the middle of the small kitchen, arms crossed in front of his chest, legs slightly wider than his hips. His presence fills the space, his signature smell invading my nose. There’s no way to describe Gabriel’s scent. He doesn’t smell of body wash, or cologne, or masculine deodorant. My attraction to his scent is biological, and on another level. Apparently, time has not affected it. If anything, it has increased. Perhaps that, too, is biological.
I duck my head, forcing my eyes to find another subject. The corner of the kitchen floor will do. Even better, a piece of dried pasta that never made it into the pot of boiling water last night.
Gabriel backs up until he meets the edge of the kitchen counter. The smell dips fractionally, and I become brave enough to test the air.
Much safer. My head clears with my next breath, and I try again. “I appreciate you bringing all that by. I’m low on food, and I was going to make a run to the store.”
Gabriel thumbs outside. “You were going to drive in that?”
I look out the window, to where the snow falls steadily. “Umm…yes?” It’s clear what a bad idea that would have been.
